


Complicit

by tastewithouttalent



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Burnplay, Cigarettes, Love/Hate, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-07 21:08:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1913928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If Shizuo were asleep at a reasonable hour, he wouldn’t be woken by a knock at his apartment door. This is because there is no knock at his door at all." Izaya helps himself to Shizuo's apartment. Shizuo is less than thrilled.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Complicit

If Shizuo were asleep at a reasonable hour, he wouldn’t be woken by a knock at his apartment door. This is because there is no knock at his door at all. In fact there’s no sound at all, at least not that he can hear from around the corner, until the door latches clicks open and the squeak of the hinges catches his attention. This does bring him to his feet, because he’s  _not_  asleep, which is for the best because it means he’s fully alert as he rounds the corner to find Izaya throwing the lock again, from the inside this time.

For a moment he’s speechless, even his usual instinctive growl absent from his mind. That’s enough time for Izaya to turn back from the door, jump in overstated shock, lift a hand to his heart as if he’s truly startled.

“Why, Shizu-chan.” His voice is as melodramatic as his actions, high with pretended innocence. “Did I wake you?”

Shizuo can feel his face falling from surprise into anger, his eyes narrowing into murderous fury. “ _Izaya_.” When he steps in Izaya doesn’t back up, holds his ground even when Shizuo leans in to press his shoulders in against the other’s. “What are you doing in my  _house_?”

Izaya’s eyebrow goes up. He tips his head sideways to pointedly look around the space. “House? Shizu-chan, this is  _hardly_  a house. An apartment, isn’t it?”

“ _Mine_ ,” Shizuo grates, and Izaya laughs like he doesn’t have the strongest man in Ikebukuro inches away from shattering his ribs.

“I picked your lock.” He reaches into his pocket, holds up a set of lockpicks like they’re a ring of keys. “You haven’t been to see me in  _weeks_ , I was worried you had forgotten about me.”

“I might have been  _asleep_.” Shizuo means to grab a handful of Izaya’s shirt. The collar is lower than he expects, so when he expects fabric his thumb drags hard against Izaya’s skin before he catches a fistful of black shirt. Izaya arches into the contact, offers a breathy moan of response that dissolves into a laugh at whatever expression is on Shizuo’s face.

“That was the  _point_ ,” he says, reaching up to curl his fingers around Shizuo’s collar before the blond jerks away. “I wanted to  _surprise_  you.”

Shizuo hisses wordlessly, shakes Izaya by his hold on the other’s shirt. The other doesn’t resist at all, goes limp into the pull so he falls forward against Shizuo, curls his fingers in against the back of the blond’s neck.

“You’re so  _sweet_  when you’re sleeping,” Izaya purrs.

Shizuo turns, shoves hard enough to pull Izaya’s hold loose and send the other skidding across the floor. Izaya’s laughing before he hits the ground, makes no effort to catch himself or gets back to his feet; he just falls back flat on Shizuo’s carpet, arches his back up more than is strictly necessary, and brings one hand down to pull up the bottom edge of his shirt to bare an inch of pale skin.

“So  _vulnerable_ ,” Izaya says. The word turns into a threat in his voice, turns Shizuo’s blood to fire instantly so the first cigarette he pulls out of the box crushes in his fingers before he can stop himself. “All your defenses down. I’m surprised you can sleep so  _well_ , Shizu-chan.”

“I won’t anymore,” he hisses as he pulls a replacement cigarette free. “Unless I drag the couch in front of the door.”

“Thinking of me before you sleep every night?” Izaya laughs. “How  _romantic_.”

Shizuo shoves the cigarette between his lips to keep it free of the involuntary clench of his fingers, fumbles his lighter open and holds the light to the end while he inhales sharply. Izaya just keeps laughing, sliding his fingers idly over his stomach so by the time Shizuo drops to his knees over the other’s legs Izaya has his shirt halfway up his chest and one of his hands dipping under the edge of his waistband.

“So are you feeling like foreplay tonight, Shizu-chan?” His fingers come sideways from his hip to the front of his pants, tug the edge down a half-inch so Shizuo can see there’s nothing but skin under the tight denim. “Or just straight to fucking?”

Shizuo hisses around his clenched teeth, takes a hard inhale off the cigarette. The nicotine doesn’t help,  _nothing_  helps around Izaya, but he lets the smoke out as soon as he’s taken a breath; the point is the inhale, not the breath. It’s the drag that pulls the end of the cigarette into a red ember of heat, that keeps the burn in the paper when Shizuo pulls the cigarette free. It’s still glowing when he shoves Izaya’s shirt up higher with one hand and presses the lit end against the curve of pale skin at his waist.

Izaya jerks at the burn, body pulling away in instinctive retreat from the pain, but he doesn’t even give Shizuo the satisfaction of a yell, just chuckles and lowers his eyelashes so he’s gazing up at the blond through them. “Foreplay it is, then.” He rocks up against Shizuo’s weight, lifts his hips off the ground like he’s asking for more, and Shizuo drops the extinguished cigarette and reaches out to grab Izaya’s hips with one hand, shove him back flat to the floor with a growl that is mostly irritation and, okay, yes, the first edge of arousal.

“Over so soon?” Izaya pouts. “Just  _one_  isn’t enough to mark me, is it, Shizu-chan?” He lets his shirt go -- Shizuo’s hand is still pressing down against his chest, the shirt’s so high up it’s barely doing anything to cover him anymore -- and reaches to retrieve the abandoned cigarette. “I thought you wanted to  _kill_  me, it’s going to take more than one little burn to do that.” He produces a lighter from somewhere -- his pocket, his hand, it might be Shizuo’s own picked up off the floor -- and relights the cigarette, purses his lips around the thing and takes a long breath of smoke with his eyes still half-lidded like he’s the addict Shizuo knows he’s not.

Shizuo’s leaning in towards that -- he can’t not, not when he can feel Izaya’s heartbeat racing under the fingers on the other’s skin -- and Izaya exhales all at once, blows stinging smoke into Shizuo’s eyes. He's laughing before the blond has even started to flinch back.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Shizuo spits, blinking hard against the irritation, and Izaya’s fingers brush his wrist.

“Here.” He’s handing off the lit paper; as soon as Shizuo takes it Izaya’s rolling over, pulling his shirt up off his head and dropping back to his stomach so the whole expanse of his back is on display. “Your choice.”

It’s too much, there’s too many options, especially when Izaya’s wiggling under Shizuo as he gets his pants open and starts to slide them off his hips. Finally Shizuo brings the cigarette to his own mouth, takes a quick inhale, and shoves the end back against Izaya’s skin, dead center in the dip of his spine. He can see the ripple of pain run through the other’s body, can  _hear_  the sensation rubbing Izaya’s voice into sincerity when he moans, “ _Shizu-chan_ ” like an endearment.

“You’re insane,” Shizuo says, and Izaya brings his weight up onto his knees to push his pants down.

“It’s been said.” He draws his legs free one at a time, wiggles back down between Shizuo’s legs so he’s pinned down again. “Can’t you be more creative than that?” He reaches back without looking to grab the cigarette back from the blond’s stalled fingertips. “There’s lube in the left pocket.”

Shizuo wishes he wasn’t hard. It would be satisfying to tell Izaya he’s not into this, to have proof of such instead of the pressure of his own arousal making a liar of him. But his blood is  _singing_ , alight with fire he doesn’t dare let out with anyone else, and he’s either going to kill Izaya or...well. They both know, by now, what the other option is.

Shizuo reaches for Izaya’s discarded pants, fumbles through both pockets until he finds the mentioned bottle. Izaya has come up on his elbows, drawing his back into an elegant arch in total disregard of the red circle darkening against his spine. It’s as if he doesn’t feel it, like the pain isn’t pain at all but something more, not just the numbness that so often suffuses Shizuo’s body but heat, fire and life and vicious survival, and Shizuo is staring at the mark when Izaya speaks around the cigarette he’s smoking again.

“Are you going to fuck me or just admire the view?” When Shizuo looks up Izaya’s got his head tipped back, is watching him sideways through his lashes and grinning like he has all Shizuo’s secrets in his head, ready to spill at a moment’s notice.

“ _Fuck_  you, Izaya,” Shizuo snaps, and Izaya angles his hips up in invitation.

“Aren’t you going to?”

There’s no answer to that, at least none that will shut him up, so Shizuo contents himself with hissing and reaching out to shove his thumb against the first burn on Izaya’s waist. The other shudders, offers up the involuntary reaction like it’s a gift, and Shizuo doesn’t care about the taunts enough to so much as slow down for them anymore. He’s got the bottle open while Izaya is still laughing, gets his fingers slippery while the other rocks up against him with pressure that only manages to tease rather than help, and Izaya is offering the cigarette when Shizuo reaches for his waist again, presses in against the burn again to hold Izaya steady while he shoves two fingers inside him.

It’s fast and hard, harder than he ought to, but Izaya’s back arches and he nearly drops the stick in his fingers, and that’s worth it even before he laughs, the sound broken and shaky instead of the taunting mania he usually achieves.

“Ahh,  _Shizu-chan_.” He brings the cigarette back, takes another inhale while Shizuo is drawing his hand back. “You’re always so --  _ah!_  -- rough with me, I can -- count on you for that.” His words are interrupted by the motion of Shizuo’s hand, hard enough that his whole body is rocking slightly forward with each thrust of the blond’s arm, but he doesn’t protest and he’s breathing harder, Shizuo can see the sharp motion of his inhales. This time when he offers the cigarette again Shizuo takes it, shoves it against Izaya’s shoulder without taking any time to line it up at all.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Izaya blurts, unstudied reaction finally spilling up from his throat. Shizuo can hear it in the edge to his voice, the way it drops low for a moment and comes fast in response to the blond’s movement. “ _Fuck_ , Shizu-chan, just  _fuck_  me already.” He’s rocking into the floor, grinding against the surface like that’ll be enough to get him off, and this time when Shizuo drops the cigarette it’s a moment before Izaya’s hands are steady enough to reach for it.

Shizuo draws his hand free, reaches to undo the front of his pants, and Izaya comes up onto his hands and knees so he’s at a better angle. He  _is_  hard, if his rocking against the floor wasn’t enough to make that clear, although he makes no move to touch himself even once he’s got his balance. He  _does_  angle his knees a little wider when Shizuo moves away to work his own pants free, curves his back into an explicit offering, and when Shizuo growls Izaya laughs, takes a deliberate slow inhale from the cigarette so the paper lights up like a beacon.

“Hurry  _up_ ,” he says around the obstruction at his lips. “I don’t come to you for your  _patience_ , you know.”

Shizuo gets his clothes free, comes in so fast he shoves Izaya forward and off-balance, and the other laughs and rocks himself back, pushing against the blond’s cock while Shizuo is still trying to line himself up. The impact is painful and promising at once, punctuated with Izaya’s uncontrolled laughter, and Shizuo reaches out to shove against the small of Izaya’s back with a thumb while his other is occupied with holding his length steady.

Izaya moans like Shizuo’s kissed him, curves his back to push harder into the contact, starts to talk as Shizuo fits himself in place and begins to slide forward and into him. “It feels like your fingers are on fire when you do that, Shizu-chan.” He offers the cigarette again; it’s still hot from his last inhale, glowing red-hot like Shizuo’s blood. It leaves another mark, just along Izaya’s ribcage, this time, right where his elbow will brush it when he moves. “You’ll leave five-fingered imprints across my skin the same way I left that perfect line across your chest.”

Shizuo hisses at the reminder, shoves himself the rest of the way into Izaya all at once by way of retribution. Izaya’s words cut off for a moment, his head drops forward, but he keeps from groaning, and after a breath he picks back up his train of thought. “It’s only fair you leave me something to remember you by.”

“Just the one scar is pretty tame for you,” Shizuo remarks. He draws back, thrusts forward again hard enough that Izaya tips forward and nearly falls.

“Ahh, Shizu-chan.” Izaya’s voice is a warning in itself, gentle condescension layered over eternal amusement. “I’ve left so many more marks than that, and on what you care about  _far_  more than your skin.”

“Izaya --” Shizuo says warningly, and Izaya laughs.

“On your  _city_ , of course. My fingerprints are everywhere, haven’t you noticed?”

Shizuo grabs the back of Izaya’s neck, shoves him down hard against the floor. It doesn’t stop the other’s words, it barely interrupts his speech; he just lets himself be forced down, reaches down with one hand to close his fingers around himself and start stroking over his length out-of-time with Shizuo’s speeding thrusts. “I’m in the pavement and in the whispers of the crowd, I’m the ghost everyone knows about and everyone fears and everyone  _needs_. Even  _you_ , Shizu-chan, you  _need_  me, and you  _hate_  me, and you can  _never_  be rid of me.” His hand is moving faster, like he’s jerking off to his own words more than to Shizuo’s movements. It might even be true. Shizuo doesn’t have much attention to spare for it; his fingers are spasming with fury against the back of Izaya’s neck, he’s trying to keep his rage in check and is succeeding, barely, and then only by shoving into Izaya so hard the other’s words start to break into chunks in time with Shizuo’s motions. “I’m -- the city, Shizu -- chan, the same -- as you.”

“ _Izaya_ ,” Shizuo hisses, and he has to move his hand or he’s going to break Izaya’s neck. He shoves his fingers upward, dragging rough through the other’s dark hair and forcing Izaya’s head sideways against the floor, and Izaya laughs.

“ _Shizu-chan_ ,” he groans, and the nickname manages to be sincere and a taunt at the same time. “I’m going to  _come_ ,” and that’s a taunt too, more teasing than a warning before he jerks, arches his back under Shizuo’s hold on his head and groans as he comes onto the floor. The involuntary motion of his body is almost too much for Shizuo; then Izaya is gasping a steadying breath, and the motion of his hand is slowing, and the edge of pleasure recedes away again like he’s taking it with him.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Shizuo says. He reaches for the new burn, the one against Izaya’s ribcage, and when he closes his hand over it he can feel the shift of the other’s breathing under his palm. When he pushes Izaya shudders, his body tries to pull away from the pain with a reflex even he can’t control, and Shizuo thrusts forward and pleasure crashes over him, drags him under and oblivious for a moment.

He doesn’t even realize he’s groaned Izaya’s name until a breath later, and then only because the last syllable is still clinging to his lips. Izaya is laughing, like Izaya is  _always_  laughing after Shizuo comes, and shoving him harder into the floor doesn’t have any effect on him. Shizuo hisses uselessly, pulls himself free and drops back to sit on the floor while Izaya slides to lie flat on his stomach on the sticky floor.

“You’re always such a good pet,” he smiles. Shizuo hisses and kicks his leg but it doesn’t stop the other’s voice. “So quick to give me what I want. You’re my favorite, Shizu-chan, really you are.”

“Get out,” Shizuo manages. “Get out of my  _apartment_.”

“Aww.” Izaya rolls over with no visible reaction to the press against the burns this motion entails. “But I’m a  _mess_ , you should at least let me clean myself up first.”

“Get  _out_ ,” Shizuo repeats.

Izaya heaves a sigh and sits up. “You’re heartless.” He reaches for his discarded shirt, pulls it on over his head before glancing back to Shizuo, smiling so sharp it cuts. “That’s what I like about you.”

“ _Izaya_ ,” Shizuo offers in warning and gets to his feet.

“Fine.” Izaya grabs his pants, stands and wiggles back into the clothing with more movement than can possibly be necessary. “I’m leaving.” He heads for the door and Shizuo turns to watch him go, though he makes no move to follow him. “Come to visit sometime, I miss you all on my own.” He unlocks the door, slides his shoes back on and steps out into the hallway.

“And you can keep the lube!” he calls back. “Save it for my next visit!”

Shizuo’s heading for the door when it slams shut to block out Izaya’s rising laughter. He lifts a hand to hit the wood and thinks better of it, reaches out instead for the half-empty box of cigarettes and flings that across the room at the wall. That helps, a little. Moving the couch in front of the door helps even more, and falling asleep on it helps the most.

His dreams are full of laughter.


End file.
